Preaching Paths 23 July 2023

Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary

Today’s gospel lesson (Mt 13:24-30, 36-47) presents the parable of the wheat and weeds, and an accompanying interpretive narrative. The parable, unique to Matthew, trades in eschatological imagery and a stark good/evil dividing of human actors—tropes familiar to Matthew’s audience. These frames of reference rarely resonate with 21^st century congregations. That said, the stories of the wheat and weeds challenge norms of Jesus’ time as well as ours and have much to offer us.

The story’s fable-like plot presses the outer limits of plausibility. An enemy comes “while everyone was sleeping” (in a single night?) to spread darnel seeds across a landowner’s wheat fields. Darnel is a noxious visual “twin” of wheat until harvest when the seed pods appear.  The fields of a slave-owning landholder would be vast; that they would be poisoned in a single night stretches credibility. Oddly, the slaves recognize (/) the invader seedlings, although at this stage they would look like wheat. If recognized, weeds would be eliminated immediately; yet the landowner insists the darnel will only be pulled and burned at harvest.

Jesus’ explanation several verses later takes the shape of an eschatological narrative with standard tropes of Jewish apocalyptic: a clear division of children of God/children of evil and final judgment by a “Son of Man” (see Daniel 7:13), a title Jesus applies to himself in Mt.

Three striking themes worthy of a sermon arise from the story of the wheat and weeds. First, distinguishing the truly good from the truly evil is a task beyond humans. Yet, in every corner of the world we find extremist figures devising extra-juridical processes whereby they act as judge, jury and executioner to exterminate the evil “other.” There is no doubt that injustice matters. We need to challenge and change oppressive systems. Vulnerable groups need protection; bad actors need to be held to account. But ultimate judgment is the business of angels, not fear-mongering human beings driven by fear, fantasy and greed.

Second, it is not clear what the “field” represents: is this all of human history, the church, or, for that matter, every human heart?  Who has not wondered, like the landowner’s servants, why the evil is allowed to coexist with the good? The answer is that to wrench out the evil prematurely will destroy the good. If we are the “field” in question, this is mercy.  

Third, we may find offensive the blunt dualism of good and evil in apocalyptic passages such as vv. 41-43. Nuance is absent; some are labelled “children of the evil one.” Yet, perhaps we should be grateful for the promise of Jesus that utter, irredeemable evil will not be with us always. One day, there shall be a reckoning. Ask any Ukranian or Syrian mother or father whose child has died in a bomb blast whether that matters. Ask victims of genocide. Ask any whose loved one has been torn away far too young by incurable disease. Ask victims of torture and abuse. It matters that one day, life-destroying horrors shall be no more.